


Old Friends

by BiJane



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiJane/pseuds/BiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara works at Coal Hill School. The Chairman of the Board of Governors visits her on her first day; a certain Ian Chesterton.<br/>She takes it upon herself to arrange a reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 50th Anniversary, partly as my contribution for the date, and partly for that split-second shot of the school sign, with Ian chairing the Board of Governors.  
> Enjoy!

Clara met the Chairman of the Board of Governors on her first day in Coal Hill School. Apparently he liked to welcome all new teachers.

“Ian,” he said, extending a hand. “Ian Chesterton. If there’s anything you’re wondering about, or want to change, let me know.”

“Clara Oswald,” Clara said, shaking his hand back. “And thanks. I think. Does that just mean you get a lot of complaints?”

_Chesterton_. Something about that name rang a bell, even if she couldn’t figure out why.

“Not at all,” a chuckle, “I just used to be in your place. Must be fifty years ago, now. It’s nice to know there’s someone who’ll listen, that’s all. You know, if you’ve got a troublesome student, and the normal channels aren’t working, let me know.”

“The students that bad, then?” Clara said.

She smiled. While she’d only taught one class so far, this Ian arriving in her first free, no one had stood out as particularly problematic. Then again, it was the thought that counted.

“Oh no, no,” Ian said, smiling ruefully. “Not doing a good job of selling this place, am I? I promise you though, it’s a great school. Best years of my life started here.”

“Thanks,” Clara said, “Really. No bad students then?”

“Oh, there are always some,” Ian said, “Doubt things will have changed that much. My wife used to teach history here; she had one girl that thought she knew better than the curriculum.”

“Was she right?” Clara said. A laugh.

“Funny you should say that, actually,” Ian said. “Same girl was in my class: science, I mean, came up with the most outrageous theories you’ve ever heard.”

Ian’s expression changed, somewhat; the smiling creases on his elderly face lessened, became subdued. A twinkle of sadness in his eyes. There was some bad memory there, Clara was sure of it. She didn’t press on.

“Susan, her name was,” Ian said, more melancholy. “Susan Foreman.”

Clara blinked. _That_ name she knew, it had been painted all over the Doctor’s time-stream. Granddaughter. And once she made that connection, she instantly remembered who Ian Chesterton was.

Well.

“This might sound like a silly question,” Clara said, slowly, “But have you heard of someone called the Doctor?”

It was as if a switch had been thrown. The sadness on Ian’s face evaporated: and he looked at her with a kind of bewildered hope. 

* * *

 

The next time the Doctor left a message for her, Clara called Ian. He left the Governors mid-meeting, meeting her in the car park in under a minute. He sat behind her, and they rode her bike to the given coordinates.

Clara couldn’t say quite why she was doing this. Certainly, she hadn’t warned the Doctor. It just felt right, though; from what she’d seen of Ian, he was the first human to really be the Doctor’s friend. Well, he and Barbara, his wife. So long ago, from everyone’s perspective: but she knew the Doctor wouldn’t have forgotten him.

She just had to give him a surprise.

“Can we stop off at my home?” Ian was saying, half-shouting to be heard over the sound of the wind rushing past them. “I know Barbara would love to…”

Whatever he said after that, Clara couldn’t make out. Riding a motorcycle wasn’t the best venue for a conversation; everything was muffled by her helmet.

“I can only carry one passenger,” Clara shouted back. “We can go back for her after, how’s that?”

She heard what sounded like an _ok_ , thought it was still hard to tell.

The TARDIS had, this time, landed in a rather busy car park. In between dully-shaded vehicles, it used up a space. Attached to the side, a ticket had been stuck to the time machine, giving the Doctor another hour in the car park.

As soon as they entered the park, the TARDIS was immediately visible, distinctive blue peering up above the rows of cars. Ian slowed; Clara took his hand, smiling.

“By the way,” she said, almost as an afterthought, “You haven’t heard of regeneration, have you?”

“Of what?” Ian said, frowning. He stopped, to listen to Clara. He seemed glad of the break; it gave him a chance to catch his breath.

Forty eight years ago, he’d left the TARDIS behind. Then, he’d never expected to run into it again, no matter how much he might have hoped. And now, it was scarcely metres away.

“Regeneration,” Clara said, smiling. “The Doctor’s people, they have this way of cheating death. Refreshes their face, their personality: everything. Just saying, he might look and act a bit different to how he was when you knew him.”

“Different?” Ian said, frowning, “Different how?”

“Younger,” Clara said, slowly. “Bit nicer. Less fashion sense,” she paused. “Teensy bit mad.”

Ian fell silent, regarding the blue box. Then, so slowly, he began to walk forward. Clara waited until he was almost in arm’s reach of the TARDIS, before catching up. She slowed only as his hand went into the pocket of his jacket; and withdrew a key-ring.

“I always hoped-” Ian began to say, then hesitated. “I never thought-” He couldn’t finish that sentence either. Overcome, he found one of the keys on the ring.

It fit neatly into the TARDIS keyhole.

The doors swung open.

Inside, the Doctor was busy fiddling around with the controls, back to the door; he glanced at the screen, then returned to pulling levers, and twiddling dials.

“Ah, Clara,” he said, back still to the door, “I was thinking, Narn might be a good place to visit. They’ve got this dish called Breen, it’s _exactly_ like Swedish meatballs, even th-”

The Doctor turned to grin at Clara, and froze.

Ian stood in the doorway of the time machine, staring around at the impossible interior, finding it somehow comforting. He’d never gotten used to it, not even with how much time he’d spent there.

And it looked different. Oh, it looked so very different; just recognizing the dimensions though, just seeing something bigger on the inside, it was unmistakeable.

Then there was the man with the central console, touching each control lovingly, with an expertise founded more on ‘don’t ask questions’ than knowing what he was doing. That especially was familiar.

Though his face had changed, and his air, and clothing, and manner, and voice… Though all of that was different, there was something in his eyes. It might have been the spark of recognition, or might have simply been the unthinkable age.

“Hello, Doctor,” Ian said, slightly hoarse. A moment of silence.

“Chesterton?” the Doctor said, one hand unconsciously fiddling with the lapel of his jacket.

Clara stood, outside, watching with an unsuppressed grin. She rested with one hand against the frame of the door, the joy emanating from the two within the TARDIS contagious, despite the fact both were still.

Still slow, Ian took a step forward, beginning the ascent of the path within the TARDIS. Whether it was age affecting his pace, or disbelief, Clara couldn’t tell. As soon as he reached the area around the central console, though, the Doctor wrapped his arms around him. After a disconcerted moment, Ian returned the hug.

Wordless, Clara entered the TARDIS, shutting the door behind her, and waiting by the door to simply watch.

“How’ve you been?” the Doctor said upon stepping away, his voice clearly taken aback.

“Fine,” Ian said, just as overwhelmed, unable to think of what else to say. “Barbara- we got married, not long after we made it back.”

“Really?” the Doctor grinned, childishly. “I always thought you two were…” he trailed off. Ian found himself smiling.

“And you?” he said. Maybe it wasn’t original, but he couldn’t put most of his thoughts into words.

“Oh, you know me,” the Doctor smiled. “Getting into trouble, running down corridors, the usual.”

“Does sound familiar,” Ian said. Then, thoughtful; “How long has it been? Forty eight years for me.”

“Longer, for me,” the happiness in the Doctor’s tone faded for a moment. “Much longer. Still, we’re here now,” he rested a hand on the console. “Say, where do you and Barbara live, now?”

Ian gave a number and street, frowning. “Why?”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to invite her in?” the Doctor said, already playing with the controls, “Let her see the old place, you know.”

The Doctor reached across, to pull down the lever that would set the TARDIS into flight, when Ian jumped across, grabbing his wrist. Confused, the Doctor stopped, leaving the time machine in place.

“Sorry,” Ian said, slightly sheepish. “It’s just- can you actually fly the TARDIS, now? Don’t want to go missing for two years again.”

“Yes!” the Doctor exclaimed, indignantly. The effect of which was rather spoiled when, at the same instant, Clara casually added:

“No.”

The Doctor paused, and blinked, before glaring across the TARDIS at a remarkably unaffected Clara. She smiled back, innocently. He rolled his eyes.

“Well,” he said, “Better than I used to. Besides, I think she’ll be happy to help,” his hands ran across the console. “She’s missed you, you know.”

* * *

 

They landed in Ian and Barbara Chesterton’s back garden. A new spark of youth in his eyes, Ian decided not to tell her immediately.

Instead, he entered their house from the back door, as if nothing was wrong, calling a hello, absently mentioning running into an old friend. Amused, Barbara came downstairs, asking why he’d come in that door, and who the friend was.

Then she glanced into the back garden, and saw the blue box.

Upon his first sight, Ian had frozen. Barbara did quite the opposite, rushing out, past a chuckling Ian, and running into the open doors. She didn’t stop until she’d crossed the threshold, to stare from side to side, once more awed.

“I’d almost forgotten how it felt,” she said, soft. The TARDIS engines groaned indistinctly; she frowned.

“She’s missed you,” the Doctor said, standing by the console. “Hello Barbara.” A grin.

Clara was happy to simply watch. It was something, to not only see the Doctor in a state of rare, untarnished happiness, but to see the reactions of his two old, old friends. Ian entered the TARDIS, slower than his wife, yet grinning just as much.

Barbara didn’t need to know regeneration was possible. She knew the TARDIS, and only one person would stand by the controls so.

“You took your time,” Barbara said, looking at the Doctor. Her tone might have been scolding, if not for her smile.

“You know me,” the Doctor said, shrugging. “Always getting side-tracked.”

Clara watched him. Somehow, a weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders; there wasn’t any guilt at taking so long to see them again, there was relief. Gratitude. They didn’t hold it against him, not at all. Of course he would be happy at that.

“He really hasn’t changed,” Ian said, reaching the walkway around the central console, with Barbara and the Doctor. “Even if he pretends he has.”

“Oy!” the Doctor’s gaze turned to him: “Less lip Chesterton, ok?”

“Just the same,” Barbara laughed.

The Doctor pouted. Apparently that expression the new couple recognized also.

After a few seconds, the Doctor realized he wouldn’t win the exchange, and instead decided to slink off, around to the other side of the column. Barbara took Ian’s hand, immensely nostalgic, happy to simply be in the TARDIS once more.

“Anyway,” the Doctor said after a minute or so, his head peering out sideways; “What do you say? You two together, back on board, fancy an adventure?”

Barbara and Ian glanced at each other, surprised. Well, maybe not surprised; Clara knew they’d entertained the possibility. No one-time companion wouldn’t.

“I don’t think we can,” Ian said, slowly. “I’m on the Board of Governors, Barbara’s needed at the museum, and the kids-”

“I can get you back quickly,” the Doctor said. “Managed to land here, didn’t I?”

They didn’t need much convincing at all. Their eyes met again; a silent exchange, and Barbara smiled.

“Yes, then,” she said, more relieved they had an excuse, than anything. “One more. Feels about right.”

And in moments, the TARDIS engine was grinding, the old companions were laughing, and the Doctor was hopping around the console as though he knew what he was doing. One last adventure for Ian and Barbara. 


End file.
